


Darker than you know

by m3aculpa



Category: Glee
Genre: Dark, M/M, Rape, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-21
Updated: 2010-08-21
Packaged: 2017-10-24 04:59:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/259269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/m3aculpa/pseuds/m3aculpa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He didn't say anything. It somehow made it much more worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Darker than you know

**Author's Note:**

> **Title:** Darker than you know  
>  **Fandom:** Glee **  
> Rating:** NC-17  
>  **Characters/Pairings:** Kurt, Artie, Artie/Kurt  
>  **Warnings:** NON-CON, dark, angst  
>  **Word count:** 1865  
>  **Prompt:** Written for [this](http://community.livejournal.com/glee_kink_meme/570.html?thread=1378362#t1378362) prompt at the [](http://community.livejournal.com/glee_kink_meme/profile)[**glee_kink_meme**](http://community.livejournal.com/glee_kink_meme/) : Artie/Kurt **non-con**. Bonus points for Artie trapping Kurt against a wall with his chair and then pulling him up by his hair with those strong arms he's got to have.  
>  **Summary** : He didn't say anything. It somehow made it much more worse.

The chair hits him in the back of his knees and he stumbles. In a rather unflattering display of gracelessness he goes down and hits his head on the wall. It stuns him slightly and he presses a hand against his hair to feel so he’s not cracked his head open or something. Reassured not to find blood, he smoothes down his hair.  
   
“What _is_ wrong with you?” he asks in his prissiest voice.  
   
For a moment he feels guilty, because Artie can’t help that he sometimes bumps into people. But then again, there should be enough space for him to clearly avoid Kurt when they’re alone in the choir room. He tries to get up but the chair is blocking his way. He doesn’t want to accidentally overturn the chair. Looking up he notices a look he has never seen on Artie’s face before. It makes him in a frightened gasp, because it is more reminiscent of the Neanderthals than their nerdy friend.  
   
He cries out when Artie tangles his hands into his hair and pulls him up by it. It burns. He clutches at Artie’s hand trying to make him let go. It feels like he’s going to tear all of the hair off. He whimpers in pain and fear. But mostly he’s confused. He can’t understand why his friend is doing this. His nails uselessly scratch at the unrelenting hand holding him up.  
   
Artie often talks about his super-human upper body strength. On some logical level he must have acknowledged the truth of this statement – after all, Artie does use his arms daily to move both the chair and his own body. But compared to the brute strength (not to mention cruelty) of Karofsky and Azimio, it never have worried Kurt.  
   
Artie slams his head into the wall and he whimpers. His vision blackens at the edges. When he manages to get it to return to normal, the burning pain in his scalp doesn’t worry him as much as Artie’s hand undoing his pants.  
   
“No… wha are you doing?” he protests, weakly pushing against the hand and slurring his words together (which is probably not a good sign). “Stop it…”  
   
He trails off and tries to focus his gaze to see the expression on his friend’s face. Why is Artie doing this? He voices the question, not really sure that the words are understandable. The second impact on the wall was _hard_ and fucked with his head more than he wanted to admit.  
   
Air hits his cock and ass and he tries to cover himself up as Artie pulls the pants down. Kurt feels the panic build up and tries to kick up. It only makes him lose his balance and Artie yanks on his hair. Tears form in his eyes and he can’t quite help the whimpers of pain. He barely hears the sound of another zipper going down, because he hears strange noises. Like a scared puppy. It doesn’t make sense and he tries to look for the puppy. It takes him a moment or two to realise that it is not a puppy, but that the noises are coming from himself.  
   
By then Artie has pulled free from his underwear. Kurt eyes widen comically when he realises that Artie is hard and aching. He tries to pull back, not caring if it will tear out his hair, but Artie is unrelenting. He pushes own Kurt’s head towards his red and leaking cock. Kurt tries to scream but the moment his mouth opens, Artie shoves him down. He’s choking and trying to pull back, put Artie is unrelenting. He gags. The taste of musk and sweat and salt of pre-cum makes the bile rise up in his throat.  
   
Artie pulls his head up and down. Kurt’s crying and it clogs up his nose. Struggling in panic, because he can’t _breathe_ , he realises that Artie doesn’t care. And that makes him sag in hopelessness. The tears sliding down his face seem to make Artie moan even more obscenely (is that _even_ possible? his mind screams at him). He tugs more ruthlessly at Kurt’s hair and he can barely feel his abused scalp anymore.  
   
Artie groans loudly and grunts as his free hand squeezes down on the base of his cock. He lifts Kurt’s head from his cock and a thumb wipes away a stray tear. Kurt is strangely passive and feels disassociated when Artie manhandles him up into the chair. A hand on his hip, steadying him, and another guiding something heard to nudge at his entrance. It doesn’t feel real. It isn’t happening to him. His head lolls back and he stares into the bright light of the lamps.  
   
It _hurts_. He cries out once. The sharp cry of somebody who’s been stabbed; half-pain, half-shock. Then he is quiet as he feels Artie lift him up and down, slamming him down into his lap so there’s a vile sound of skin slapping against skin. Kurt holds his hand tightly against his side. He doesn’t want to risk touching Artie. If he touches Artie with his hands, this would become real. It isn’t real. It can’t be real.  
   
Artie comes with a quiet groan and shoves Kurt off his lap. He hits the wall again, head bouncing off it, and then he just lay where he fell.  
   
Artie hasn’t said a word. Hasn’t acknowledged that he is a person. A team mate. A friend.  
   
That makes it somehow worse.  
   
\-----  
   
The first time he imagines the blood, the tears, the forcing himself upon him, he is horrified by himself. It also turns him on beyond reasonable thought. That’s mostly what horrified him. Because it is wrong to fantasise about raping somebody. Not just anybody; _Kurt_. A person. His team mate. His _friend_. It is wrong to be so turned on by the thought that he barely needs to touch himself to cum.  
   
The first time he fantasises of pulling Kurt up by that silky hair, he comes in his pants without even touching himself. The day afterward is a day that ends with Glee practice. He barely dares to glance in Kurt’s direction. He thinks that his thoughts might be visible on his face.  
   
The first time he finds himself not caring that it is wrong or immoral, is the day that he realises that he might do it if the opportunity presents itself.  
   
Mister Schue doesn’t really care about students. If he did, he would notice that Artie is quieter than usual. He would also notice the eerie way with which he tracks Kurt’s moments across the room. He also wouldn’t leave them alone in the choir room.  
   
He isn’t aware of what he’s doing until he’s already hit Kurt with the chair. The boy goes down and hits his head. Artie feels detached. Kurt lies still for a moment, as if stunned, and then checks his head. The moment he realises that there’s no blood, he runs a hand over his hair to smooth it down. Artie feels a fire light in his belly.  
   
The words, the intonation, it is so _Kurt_ , it almost makes him smile. But he doesn’t. Mostly because he doesn’t see Kurt anymore. He sees pale, smooth skin and the other boy really does look remarkably like a doll with his angrily flushed cheeks. That’s what he is: a doll. He doesn’t notice the gasp of alarm, too caught up in the moment. It almost matches his fantasies.  
   
The hair is just as silky as he’s imagined when he wrenches Kurt up by his hair. The whimpers of pain and slight fear make him feel high. Powerful. God, he always feels humiliated and helpless when he needs to help with simple stuff, like getting up stairs and getting books from shelves. But now he has power; not over himself, but over another human being. Kurt’s hands, soft like a baby’s, clutch at his. It barely hurts and he takes no notice. Not even when Kurt scratches him does he feel a thing.  
   
He slams Kurt’s head into the wall, because he is far too volatile. He undoes Kurt’s pants, ignoring the slurred words of protest (did he slam his head so hard against the wall that he gave him a concussion?). Kurt kicks out and looses his balance. Artie holds him up by his hair. It makes his breath grow even more laboured than it already is. He is so hard that it hurts.  
   
Kurt is whimpering like a frightened puppy when he pulls his zipper down. He just takes a moment to look at Kurt’s pale, slender thighs. It looks so much more indecent with the tight pants down by his knees than it would if he pulled them off entirely. Artie pulls free from his underwear with a sigh of relief. That was painful.  
   
Kurt struggles and protests when he pushes his head down towards his cock. But he doesn’t relent. Then the wet, hot heat is surrounding his cock and he sighs in appreciation. Kurt’s throat constricts around him as he chokes and that’s heavenly, much better than he imagines. He pulls the hair and forces Kurt’s head up and down. He grunts and moans in pleasure.  
   
The heat is pooling in his belly and he feels that he is close to coming. The hand that isn’t forcing the mouth to blow him, reaches down and squeezes the base of his cock. He doesn’t want it to be over until he’s been inside Kurt. And he doesn’t know for how long they will be undisturbed.  
   
Kurt has become lifeless somewhere along the process. He hasn’t really noticed, because he wants to pleasure of Kurt’s body. It is hard to manhandle Kurt’s limp body into place. He has to hold him steady by the hip and guide his cock in place with the other hand. But he managed to shove Kurt down on his cock. The tightness almost makes him come right away. The insides are warm and dry and unlike what he imagined. The sound that Kurt makes, half-pain, half-shock, is delicious.  
   
He won’t last long, he knows. So he lifts Kurt up and slams him down in a quick, brutal rhythm. Kurt might be bleeding. He doesn’t really care. He just wants to come into that tight hole. It is not like in his fantasies. Kurt is so tight that it almost hurts him. But the noises, the tears, the haziness of Kurt’s blue eyes… it is _better_.  
   
He let’s out a quiet groan when he comes and white flashes go off inside his eyes. When did he close them? His cum splatters inside of Kurt, fills him up, overflows and dribbles down the milky white thighs. Artie loves the bruises that he has left on Kurt’s skin.  
   
He shoves the boy off of his lap. After all, he got what he wanted. He doesn’t need anything else from Kurt. He tucks himself in and glances down at the broken heap by the chair. Before wheeling away.  
   
He doesn’t say anything.  
   
Broken dolls have no need for words.  
 


End file.
